


Jump Into the Fog

by littlebluecaboose



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Animus Island Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebluecaboose/pseuds/littlebluecaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond is a bit slow on the uptake, but then again, Clay is always a few steps ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump Into the Fog

Desmond is gradually realizing that Clay isn't actually crazy- he's brilliant, and impossible to keep up with, and even when he seems to be speaking in riddles, in unrelated anecdotes, there's a common thread present that only he can see. Clay is somehow intense through his pretense of being laid back, always aware, always alert. He is, Desmond thinks on more than one occasion, the hero that the Assassins in the real world need, no, deserve. Clay has already given his life to the cause, to getting Desmond the information he needed, and he's still giving more, keeping Desmond safe, selflessly putting himself in danger.

The only thing that Clay has ever asked of Desmond is a perfectly reasonable request- freedom, another chance at life, in exchange for saving Desmond from the uncaring anti-virus software of the Animus. The more time Desmond spends with Clay, the harder it is for him to remember why he'd denied the simple request. Desmond enjoys Clay's company, because Clay is quietly intense in a way that keeps Desmond on his toes, but makes it clear that Clay will never force Desmond to go past his comfort level, perhaps because he knows better than anyone the dangers of pushing someone too far.

When Desmond staggers out of Ezio's memories, panicking and unable to get any words out, Clay is there, thin arms somehow strong and stable around Desmond, supporting him slowly to rest on the grass, wiping sweat and tears from Desmond's face, murmuring soft, meaningless encouragements in time with the soft rush of the ocean. He gradually lulls Desmond to sleep,and is gone when Desmond awakes and trudges back into Ezio's mind. Desmond finds himself coming up with reasons to return to the island, return to Clay. He knows that he will, eventually, recover, will get back into his body, that he can leave this place and fight another day.

Clay- Clay can't, and it breaks Desmond's heart to know it. He can feel himself getting close to the end of the memories, and his heart aches every time he remembers that he will be having to leave Clay, and soon. He tries to avoid the feelings that are welling up in his soul, but when he sees Clay perched on one of the pillars that the island is host to, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, Desmond can't help but call him down. He doesn't know what he plans to do, but he needs to hold on to Clay, to try to put to words how he feels- even if Desmond isn't even sure himself what that feeling is.

It's something that aches, deep in his gut, a leap of his heart when he comes out onto the island and Clay is there, a need to see the other man, a desire for- for something that Desmond can't give words, but something intimate, something that he needs like air. Desmond had hoped he could figure himself out before having this talk, but he's running out of time. Steeling himself for the very likely chance that this will go poorly, Desmond shouts, "Clay- Clay!" The blond man turns, and slides halfway down the pillar before just glitching and appearing at Desmond's side.

"Yeah?" Desmond takes a deep breath, turning to face Clay properly, and tries to collect his thoughts. "Look- I know that I'm almost at the end of the memories I need to go through of Ezio's, and I- I don't know, I don't want to leave you behind but bringing you into my body- it doesn't sit right with me, but- you, you mean a lot to me, what you've done for me, for all of us, I just- I wish that the apple was actually useful, that I could, I could bring you back, because everyone wants me to be a big hero but- Clay, I'm not. I've never wanted to be the hero of the Assassins, I'd just rather be- just a guy, y'know?" Clay barks out a hollow laugh.

"I'm not a hero, Desmond. I'm just a crazy guy who wrote cryptic messages in his own blood on the walls of Abstergo and downloaded himself into the Animus." Desmond shakes his head. "But at least you did that! I, fuck, if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have cracked a heck of a lot sooner and- I mean, at least you thought to leave a message, to get into the Animus. I would've just died. You- you fought until the very end. Hell, you're still fighting. I've been trying to get out since I was a teenager. I'm not a hero. You are. Lucy was. I'm not."

Clay shakes his head mutely, looking at the grass beneath their feet, uncharacteristically still and quiet, and Desmond is forcibly reminded that the man standing in front of him- the man who is always so alive, is now another corpse courtesy of Abstergo. The thought of Clay permanently so still, so silent makes Desmond feel ill in a way that shocks him with its intensity.

"Clay?", he prompts, hoping for some sort of response, any response at all. Clay looks up, meeting Desmond's odd gold eyes and sighing. “No one ever told me that before, is all,” he mutters. Clay glitches again, involuntarily this time, and Desmond turns to find Clay standing a few feet behind him, walking forward to rejoin Desmond. "Clay- look, I don't know how to get you back in a body, but- we've seen what memory can do, if I get out and you don't- maybe, I dunno, my memories of you can keep you in one piece for long enough to get you back alive?"

Clay shrugs, and it kills Desmond when he looks like that, so dejected, the energy gone from his slim frame, slouching along the shoreline. Desmond walks towards Clay, wrapping his arms around the other man. This close, even in the Animus, Desmond can smell Clay, leather and cheap soap and something uniquely him, warm and musky and human and oh-so-alive. Desmond can't stop himself from nuzzling into Clay's hair, smelling the cheap, generic scent of some sort of shampoo. "Desmond. Are-" Desmond exhales, ruffling Clay's hair and tightening his grip on the man's body, feeling his warm, solid body, the way his chest moves with each breath. Clay's arms come up to wrap around Desmond's torso, and Desmond can feel Clay relax into him, can feel Clay's heartbeat against his own, struggling to connect the knowledge that Clay is dead in the real world with the reality he exists in now, where Clay is alive and- beautiful, Desmond realizes, and wonders why he didn't see it before, because he's always had a thing for blondes- men and women- who can keep him on his toes, push him to be what he can become.

"Clay," Desmond murmurs into the other man's hair, "I- I think that I-" Desmond can feel Clay's face shift against his chest, a soft exhale of breath escaping him before he says, "Yes. I know. I've been wondering when you'd figure out for yourself." Clay looks up, some of his old energy present in the sparkle of his eyes, the small, but somehow utterly manic grin on his face. Desmond stares into Clay's eyes for a long moment before Clay sighs, muttering, "I have to do everything around here, don't I?" He grabs the back of Desmond's head, tangling his fingers in short brown strands, and pulls Desmond down into a rough kiss, tongue sliding against Desmond's lips almost immediately, licking over Desmond's scar and earning a whimper for his effort.

Smirking at the noise, Clay licked at Desmond's lips again, more roughly this time, more clearly asking for entrance. Desmond grants it, opening his mouth in a moan, and letting Clay's tongue explore it, their tongues getting tangled. Desmond presses closer against Clay, not exactly short on Animus-related sex, but this- this was different. This was not Altair or Ezio fucking someone hundreds of years ago, this was him, his body pressed against another's. Desmond can feel Clay trying to gain dominance, and he's more than happy to grant it, to surrender and know that he'll be safe in the fall.

Clay smirks against Desmond's lips, barely even pausing for breath in the kiss, and pushes his knee between Desmond's legs, clearly enjoying the moan he got when he ground his thigh against Desmond's rapidly hardening cock. Desmond makes increasingly obscene noises and Clay rocks against him, breaking the kiss to pant and grin against Desmond's open mouth. "You like that, mmm? You want more?" Desmond pants, moaning intermittently, and manages to get out a breathy, "Yes, Clay- everything, please!" Clay's hands slide up Desmond's chest, unzipping his hoodie and sliding it off of Desmond's shoulders, tugging his shirt off quickly afterwards. A grin dances across Clay's face and he takes in Desmond's chest, not quite as muscular as a full assassin, but still quite strong. Clay's attention, however, was focused on the ring of silver running through Desmond's left nipple.

His hand slides back up Desmonds's chest, tracing around the ring before tugging, hard, on the jewelry in Desmond's chest. Desmond bucks and moans loudly at the mix of pain and pleasure that results from Clay's movement. Clay laughs, and tugs again, this time adding a slight twist and trailing his free hand over Desmond's chest, down his abdomen, fingers catching in Desmond's belt. Desmond twitches, pressing down hard on Clay's thigh, and whining, upset that the other man was still fully clothed, but not quite in control enough to do anything about it other than whine. "What's the matter, Desmond?" Clay still has that same smirk on his face, and it's driving Desmond mad that Clay doesn't seem to be affected at all.

When he shifts his hands from Clay's shoulders to grab his hips and his crotch, however, Clay makes a rough noise and presses his erection into Desmond's hand, who is more than happy to grab and rub at the other man through his pants. Clay moves his hand away from Desmond's nipple to get both hands working to open Desmond's pants, eventually getting them all the way open and tugging them and the other man's boxers off in one fell swoop, leaving Desmond to tug his own shoes and socks off while Clay pulled his own shirts off. Desmond sat in the grass, tugging languidly at his cock while Clay undressed, whimpering when Clay was finally naked, cock standing fully erect.

Clay knelt down by Desmond's hips, grabbing his thighs and maneuvering them so that Desmond's legs were spread with Clay between them. Desmond tried to lean up and kiss Clay, but found himself being pushed down, Clay positioning himself so that he can rub their cocks together, Desmond arching up into Clay's body. Clay shifted away, earning a whine from Desmond. Desmond, being gay, had been with his share of men before, and he knew the ropes. He supposed that inside the Animus, the rules might be different, but the lack of any sort of lube present was making him a little uneasy. Clay, seeming to read Desmond's mind, leans in close and murmurs,"Relax, Desmond. I've figured out some tricks during my time here." Desmond feels Clay's tongue slide against his ear, his hands pushing Desmond's legs towards his torso and spreading them as wide as he could, left hand supporting his body, right hand trailing down Desmond's cock to rub at his balls for a moment, eventually trailing down to trace his tight entrance, blunt, thick fingers tracing circles around it.

Desmond twitches, surprised at how Clay's fingers were somehow already slick. Desmond moaned when one of Clay's fingers pushed inside his body, pushing down onto the digit, whining and wiggling, torn between the pleasure and the slight discomfort that came from being breached. Clay wiggled his finger in and out a few times before adding a second one, scissoring them and dragging a high whine from Desmond, who found himself hoping that none of the sounds he was making were finding their way out of his mouth in the real world.

He couldn't dwell on that thought for long, as Clay worked a third finger inside Desmond's body, the stretch becoming uncomfortable, but bearable, Clay pushing Desmond just far enough, but never enough to cause real pain. Desmond pushed himself onto Clay's digits, fucking himself on the other man's fingers, whimpers and moans escaping his mouth along with a litany of curses, mostly in English, but sometimes slipping into Arabic and Italian, Clay's name getting mixed in with the swearing. Desmond was desperate, he could feel that he was close, and if he came before Clay got his cock inside him, Desmond was sure he might cry. "Ngh- Clay- Now, God, do it, please-" Clay bit lightly at Desmond's nipple as he pulled his fingers out, using his hands to line his cock up with Desmond's entrance.

He pushed in slowly, so slowly, the burn perfect, Desmond's legs flailing and short screams escaping his mouth. Clay pushed in slowly, his cock larger than Desmond had anticipated- Clay resembled Altair and Ezio less than Desmond did, but the gene of being well endowed seemed to have gotten passed to Clay. Desmond wasn't complaining. It was so perfect, the way he was being filled so completely, Clay's cock completely sheathed inside Desmond's body. Desmond whined as Clay bottomed out, staying completely still save for a few rolls of his hips to let Desmond adjust. Desmond whined, shoving himself against Clay a few times, and, when Clay didn't get the hint, whimpered out, "Don't- I'm fine, just go, God, Clay, I need you, I need you to fuck me, properly, please, I know you're trying not to hurt me but God, please, fuck me, fuck me hard, I need it-"

Desmond broke off as Clay pulled out slowly, so slowly, and then slid back in just as slowly, gradually picking up speed until Desmond could feel his back slipping on the grass with each thrust, Desmond yelling, swearing, shouting Clay's name, completely drowning out the softer moans and half-formed sentences spilling from the other man's mouth. One of Clay's hands slid between their bodies to jack Desmond's cock in time with his thrusts, the other tensed to support his weight. Through Desmond's yelling, Clay managed to make out some words. "Yeah- Ah, Clay, baby, yessss, God- Shit, I'm so close- Fuck!- Yeah, like that, God, yes, more-" Clay took a deep breath, slowing ever-so-slightly before fucking Desmond even more roughly than he had before, hand on Desmond's cock speeding up, hearing Desmond scream wordlessly as he came, spurting cum all over his own chest, clenching tightly around Clay's cock, who thrust in only a few more times before coming as well, white bursting behind his eyes before he collapsed onto Desmond.

Desmond wheezed a little as Clay's full weight landed on him, forcing himself to gain control of his arms to shove the other man off of him. "Nnng." Desmond had one arm draped across his eyes, evidently not caring about the mess on his chest and inside his body. Clay smirked and laughed, the sound sharp and harsh, but somehow comforting."That's very coherent of you, Desmond." Desmond smiled, lazy and content in the afterglow. "C'mere," he said, beckoning to Clay, trying unsuccessfully to pull Clay closer. "Hold on. You're disgusting." Clay grabbed one of Desmond's socks, wet it in the ocean, and used it to clean Desmond as much as possible before tossing the article off to the side. "Hey," Desmond murmured half-heartedly before grabbing at Clay again, who complied this time, curling closer against Desmond, who was already half-asleep.

They fell asleep curled against each other, and when Desmond woke, Clay was still there, looking for maybe the first time completely at peace. Desmond stood carefully, so as not to wake his- whatever Clay was. (Boyfriend? Lover? Desmond had always hated the word partner, in any case.) He located the lost sock, decided that it was beyond saving and cast both it and its non-wet mate into the ocean, pulling on his clothes and his shoes without socks. He crept along the beach, back to Clay, and pressed a kiss to the other man's forehead.

Desmond swore he saw Clay's mouth curl into a small, contented smile for a moment, before he turned and strode back into Ezio's memories, back in time, but still holding on to the memory of Clay, of whatever the two of them were, letting it be an anchor, or perhaps a rope to support him as he rappelled deeper into his ancestor's memories. It scared him, just a little, how much he trusted Clay, how willing he was to put everything in the other man's hands. But that was one of the many things he was learning from the Animus- trust in his teammates, in the people fighting with him. When it came down to the bottom line, loving Clay was only a variation on the famed leap of faith. A jump, trusting that at the end of the fall, there'll be someone to catch him.


End file.
